, and four slender legs shot forth. They seated
themselves upon it and began to ride miles away. And the little girl
who, as we know, was no one else but Elder Mother, cried out,

"Now we're in the country. Do you see the farm-house with the great
baking oven standing out of the wall? The elder tree spreads its
branches over it, and the cock walks about, scratching for his hens.
Look how he struts!

"Now we are at the forge where the fire burns and the hammers send
bright sparks flying far around. But away, away!"

Everything, and more than the little girl mentioned as she sat on the
stick behind him, flew past them. He will never forget, and throughout
their whole journey the elder tree smelled so fresh, so fragrant. He
noticed the roses and the fresh beech trees, but the elder tree
smelled stronger than all for its flowers hung round the little girl
and he often leaned against them as they flew onward.

"Here it is beautiful in spring!" said the little girl.

And they stood in the green beech wood where the thyme lay in
fragrance beneath their feet and pink anemones looked pretty against
the green.

"Here it is beautiful in summer!" said she.

And they passed by old castles where swans swam about and they looked
down the shady avenues. In the fields the corn waved like a sea. In
the ditches yellow and red flowers were growing, and in the hedges
wild hops. In the evening the moon rose, round and large, and the
haystacks in the meadows smelled sweet.

"Here it is beautiful in autumn!" said the little girl.

And the sky seemed twice as lofty and twice as blue as before and the
forests were decked in the most gorgeous tints of red, yellow, and
green. Whole flocks of wild ducks flew screaming overhead. The sea was
dark blue and covered with ships with white sails; and in the barns
sat old women, girls, and children picking hops into a large tub. The
young people sang songs and the older ones told tales of goblins. It
could hardly be finer anywhere.

"Here it is beautiful in winter!" said the little girl.

All the trees were covered with hoar frost so that they looked like
white trees of coral. The snow creaked beneath one's boots as if every
one had new boots on, and one shooting star after another fell from
the sky. In the houses Christmas trees were lighted, and there were
presents and there was happiness. In the country people's farm-houses
the violin sounded, and there were merry games for apples. Even the